


Carry on my Wayward Son

by RudeZebrra



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dead People, Gen, Impala Feels, Light Angst, Mild Language, Sad, Saving People Hunting Things, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 06:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10848693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RudeZebrra/pseuds/RudeZebrra
Summary: "Sir, I'm sorry I took so long! Is there anything I can help with?" The car dealer wasted no time in jogging over to the sparkling black '67 Impala, old golf polo sticking to his pot belly."Oh, I'm looking to sell," the younger replied, swallowing the knot in his throat, his body repositioning itself near the car.The dealer chuckled, "Really? This car's such a jewel! Why do such a thing?"Dean cleared his throat, "You gotta let go sometimes y'know?"





	Carry on my Wayward Son

Present Day  
Lawrence, Kansas

The man stood next to his car, his hand lightly placed on its hood. His once bright green eyes peered across the dealership. Cars and trucks of many sizes and colours littered the lot. His hand ran through his short sandy coloured hair, oddly nervous of what he should say. 

He moved his hand gently across the shining black metal of the car, a grim smile on his freckled face, "I'm sorry, Baby, but you'll be fine. You're back home in Lawrence."

The lids of the man's eyes covered the dulling green. Moments with his brother in the car, and in the numerous shitty motels come to mind. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter. He had already wallowed in an ocean of alcohol and his own tears. He needed to loosen the hold he had on his little Sammy. He couldn't just sell his soul away for his brother. Samuel Winchester just wasn't gonna come back. 

The man pondered over the times he enjoyed with his family. When Sam and himself had a prank war, they all three, Sam, Dad, and himself, ganked those vampires, and when his baby brother got emotional. With a ghost. When him and Sam began hunting together again after Jess passed, along with all the "Jerk"s and "Bitch"s that were shared.

He swallowed the lump in his throat that was beginning to choke him. 

"Sir, I'm sorry I took so long! Is there anything I can help with?" The car dealer wasted no time in jogging over to the sparkling black '67 Impala, old golf polo sticking to his pot belly.

"Oh, I'm looking to sell," the younger replied, swallowing the knot in his throat, his body repositioning itself near the car.

The dealer chuckled, "Really? This car's such a jewel! Why do such a thing?"

He cleared his throat, "You gotta let go sometimes y'know?" 

"Yes, I do. Memories and promises, too much to handle," the older man ran his stubby fingers through his white scruff.

"Yeah, too much," his fist slowly clenched atop Baby, the lump in his throat came back to torture his vocals to a strain.

"May I?" Dean nodded, and the older man gently placed his hand on the car also, "She's an oldie, but she's so nice I'll take her for $25,000."

The other male responded hesitantly, "Baby's all your's then." 

The smile sent off the vibe of true pain and sadness. He knew that the drive to Lawrence would be the last time he jammed out to AC/DC in the smooth leather seats, soaking in the view of the drive through Arkansas, arm sitting near the open window tapping to a rhythm. 

The dealer received the money from inside, giving it to the once owner of the Impala. 

"Have safe travels, kid," the dealer replied despite the man he had been speaking to wasn't too young himself. 

"Thanks," he replied as he pulled his heavy backpack from the trunk and over his two shoulders, duffel bag coming with. The unforgiving heat forced him to retreat from his leather jacket, and he decided to pull out the Walkman he got at a nearby thrift store. He wasn't just gonna leave his precious cassette tapes to the next guy.

He dug for the first cassette tape he could find, placing it into its proper slot, hoping the music will come through the cheap headphones that it came with. The drums started to thump and the guitar started to riff, as the lead singer of Kansas belts out lyrics to a song. He hadn't heard "Carry on Wayward Son" in a while for sure. He still knew the words, surprisingly, and takes it upon himself to sing the song, too, as he walked along the heightening grass on Highway 40. 

He could feel the tall crisp shards of yellowed green against his legs, and saw no signs of a ride in the near future, and frankly, he doesn't care. Walking by himself might even be smarter than hitching a ride.

...there'll be peace when you're done...

 

5 Years Later  
Lawrence, Kansas

"Hey, buddy, listen to me, I need to get rid of this car it's been sitting here for years," the once happier dealer had fallen upon days of no sleep.

The blonde man pondered his thoughts, "She's in damn good condition for sure. I guess I will, but not for your asking price."

The owner of the dealership and the blonde man proceeded to make a proper deal over the car, "Thanks again so much for buying it. I don't know what I would've done if this car wouldn't get off my lot." 

The older man looked at the lightly rusted Impala as if it had its own secrets to hide.  
-  
Later in the night the blonde man's sleep became restless, and his wife kicked him out of the bedroom for such reason. He looked out on his deserted driveway, which excluded the car, his wife, not surprisingly, was angry over. 

"Maybe just a late night drive can calm my nerves," he mumbled grabbing the keys and heading outside in his pyjamas and a pair of flip-flops. He set himself in the cream coloured leather seat, soaking in the interior of the vehicle. Eyes checking the rear view mirror to make sure it was in place, and he could swear he saw someone standing in the drive. 

He let out an airy laugh, "Just like she said, 'Danny you've just got restlessness'." He pushed the key into the ignition hearing the low purr of the engine. Pulling into reverse he drove down his dirt drive, pulling to the highway, and just watching the brush and trees go by. 

"Radio?" He said turning the dial to see if the radio could still pick up signals. 

Unfortunately, it couldn't, "Well shit, it's quiet." Danny rolled his chocolate ringed eyes, upset. 

After driving for five minutes, and trying to see if, again, the radio would work, it picked up a station. A rock station in fact. The speakers quietly beat out House  
of the Rising Sun. The volume wouldn't go any higher. He fiddled with the heat and A/C and all the other basic stuff in the centre console. 

Static started to breach the music, "Better than the silence, and better than that song." 

The man sighed lifting his head up and looking to the passenger window only for it to be blocked. There was someone there. No a man. Danny's grip on the wheel tightened and he swerved, almost to the ditch.

"W-who are you?!" Danny's voice cracked, he was very afraid. 

The person in his passenger seat didn't respond. He looked over him to see he had a button down with jeans, and longish chocolate hair. He was so tall he barely fit in the vehicle. 

Danny was still breathing hard, and began to breathe harder as the figure began to turn to him. 

Dull, empty, soulless. 

That's what Danny would describe this ... man ... as. His skin was a sickly pale and dark bags sat under his void hazel eyes, as they bore holes into Danny's head that was often switching between his un-welcome guest, and the road ahead. 

The radio's static got louder as the passenger reached closer, long fingers with blood grimed nails, ghostly hovering over his arm. The radio suddenly shut off and all that was heard was the rumbling of the car's engine.

The passenger's hand landed on Danny's arm, an almost electrifying warmth, as his surprisingly timid voice whispered to him in a cold breath, "Dean? Is that you?" 

Danny stared at the man's suddenly softening face, but pulled himself away out of the rational fear of him appearing in his car.

The static of the radio got impossibly loud, and the passenger's voice raised from a whisper to a cry, "No! You're not Dean! Get out!" 

The screaming man reached out to grab at Danny, but he turned the wheel harshly, the passenger seeming to thin into dust. 

Danny sighed in relief, but it was short lived, as a deep stinging pain pierced through his chest and blood poured onto his worn t-shirt. 

He lost control of the car as it swerved into a pair of oncoming headlights.

 

...lay your weary head to rest...

 

Logan, Utah

Dean downed another shot, almost falling over onto one of many provocatively dressed women. One of them glared, and he called, "Ladies, ladies there's enough of me to go around." 

The multiple women started giggling at his hot, near-drunken state, until the sound of his phone's ringtone went off. 

"Excuse me, but I gotta call to take," he winked and walked out to the front door as the women argued over who he winked at.

A familiar gruff voice answered the opposite end of the line, "Dean I need to talk to you."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Cass? Is that really you? You finally dragged your fluffy ass over here to see me?"

"Dean, listen to me, I must talk to you in person right now."

"Make me, feather brain." 

"Dean just--I'm at your motel room. Hurry, please," Castiel's commanding voice began to plead the more he had to convince Dean to leave the bar.  
-  
"Okay Cass, what's so important that you just finally showed up for?" Dean sarcastically said, snagging a beer from the counter. 

The angel trudged over to him, trench coat flowing behind, "Look at this newspaper article."

Dean took no hesitation in reading over the newspaper's headline.

POLICE DISCOVER STRANGE STAB WOUNDS ON CAR CRASH VICTIM

Dean grunted, "Well looks like we got a case, albeit a shitty one, and I'm not doing it alone, Feathers."

"Dean we've talked about that nickname before," Cass said knitting his eyebrows together.

"Fine, lets handle this. The Winchester way," Dean dragged Castiel through the door, and they were ready to go on a new case.

 

...Don't you cry no more...

**Author's Note:**

> Hey people. I've been meaning to post this, but I'm a lazy bag of trash, sorry.
> 
> If there are any grammar/spelling mistakes or anything, let me know I'll fix it.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading this n stuff.  
> \- RudeZebrra


End file.
